


Star, Wind, Sunshine and Love

by RedSneakers



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/F, Fluff and Angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-23
Updated: 2017-06-02
Packaged: 2018-01-13 13:01:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 14,548
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1227328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedSneakers/pseuds/RedSneakers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The last thing Hermione Granger had in mind when applying for a summer part-time job at the Senate House Library was to have a supervisor as infuriating as Bellatrix Black. Working hard to be accepted by her supervisor as a part of their small community, Hermione found herself trapped into something she always tried to avoid - falling for someone who look down on her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: master hasn't given AJ anything so AJ is only borrowing the characters.
> 
> Warning: Not beta'ed - all mistakes are mine.
> 
> A/N: Oh gosh, it's been forever since I wrote anything for this fandom! I was going to give up writing altogether but then of course a new fandom (joniss - hunger games) showed up and I somehow I started to write again. And I still love this fandom so much (despite the biatch who stole my work, the reason why I stopped writing, btw) so I decided to share one of my old work. 
> 
> This isn't a finished piece, and since I am also working on a joniss multi-chapter fic the updates will be very slow. I will update, though, but if you feel that waiting sucks, please stop reading now. I don't want to disappoint anyone.
> 
>  
> 
> Anyway, so I hope this hasn't been done before (or if it does, I hope nothing of it resembles other people's work - I wouldn't know as I stopped reading fanfiction as well). 
> 
> Enjoy it.. and please let me know what you think of it. Thank you darlings.

The sound of a pair of shoes against marble floor echoed loudly as Hermione Granger walked up the stairs to the fourth floor of the Senate House, where the Senate House Library of University of London was located. Glancing at her silver wristwatch without slowing down, the young woman inwardly groaned in frustration. It was two minutes to half past seven, which meant that she was going to be late for her appointment at seven thirty – an appointment with her new supervisor on her first day of work. _Perfect_ , she berated herself, _what a great impression you’d make, Granger_.

Despite the morning’s low temperature, Hermione felt beads of sweat dampening her forehead and she wiped them hastily. The brunette took a deep breath as she willed herself to not think about worst case scenarios playing in her head about being jobless for the summer. _Shut it!_ she admonished herself when a hint of worry stubbornly clung to her, gnawing at the corner of her mind.

The twenty-year-old needed the job badly, especially now that she had told her parents she was going to work for her pocket money. Her parents had been supportive on her decision and Hermione’s pride was too high to swallow back what she had said. She was going to get the job no matter what—and she wasn’t above begging if she had to.

Hermione was very discipline and punctual as a habit; she was almost never late. And to her defence, this time it wasn’t her fault if she was late. She had left earlier than usual to catch the tube, having anticipated the morning rush and the possibility of having to wait for a later train since it was a Monday. Actually, there was a bus going straight to the Senate House from the stop across her apartment; however, if you had lived in London long enough, you would know how horrendous morning traffic was. She wasn’t taking any chances.

Of course, shit happened at the worst time ever. The klutz standing next to her accidentally spilt his coffee all over her white blouse, causing her to have to run back home and change. It was sheer luck that she got back in time to catch the train, just a split second before the doors slid shut.

Arriving at her destination a little past seven, she had to waste a precious quarter of an hour looking for a security guard—honestly, they should have employed better people; this was _the_ Senate House, for crying out loud!—and another couple of minutes to show him her student ID and explain why she had to go to the library an hour and a half earlier than its opening hours. The bulky security guard wrote her name down in the guestbook in excruciatingly slow motion before directing her to a nearby lift, telling her that she should go straight to the fourth floor. She had only started to feel relieved when suddenly the lift decided to stop—on the third floor. She pressed the ‘4’ button over and over again but the damned thing didn’t move; it stuck. Panicked, she got off the lift and looked around, hoping to find someone she could ask about it. Alas, there was nobody around. The young woman was about to head back down to enquire the guard about the lift and if there was another access to the library when her peripheral vision caught a big sign with an arrow pointing next to marble staircase; a big “Senate House Library” was written underneath the arrow.

When she reached the top of the stairs, Hermione let out an audible sigh of relief to see that it took her only less than one minute to ran up the stairs. The brunette took a moment to control her erratic breathing in order not to sound like she was having an asthma attack, glance at her clothes to see if anything was out of place, then wiped away the sweat that clung to the skin on her forehead with the back of her hand. Taking a deep breath and counting to ten with her eyes closed, Hermione clasped her hand on the steel handle of the door and pulled it open.

Upon stepping inside the library, Hermione’s eyes were greeted by the sight she loved the most – books; hundreds—no, thousands of them all stored neatly in rows of shelves so tall they reached the ceilings on her right and left. She looked up and her eyes went wide to see a narrow passageway on either side of the upper part of the library, also filled with ceiling-high bookshelves. The middle section of the library was void of shelves, but not less impressive; there were rows of communal desks for people to study, complete with old-fashioned reading lamps attached to them. Hermione had been to a lot of libraries before, but she decided that this was, by far, the best she had seen.

The place was empty since it wasn’t open yet but the lack of people was oddly comforting instead of giving her the creeps. Hermione was always at home being surrounded with books and no one else. Well, almost no one.

“Hermione Granger, isn’t it?”

A woman’s voice broke her out of her reverie and Hermione gasped in surprise even though it was not loud. She spun around to the source of the voice, so quickly she nearly tripped on her own feet.

“A little jumpy, aren’t we? Careful there—wouldn’t want you to break your neck on the first day,” commented the woman lightly; there was a smirk on her face.

The young woman couldn’t help but blush at the comment; she was embarrassed of having made the fool out of herself. _Great impression, Hermione Granger, great impression_ , she thought admonishingly. As she straightened up and did her best not to look too awkward, Hermione looked up to see her to-be supervisor. Her mouth went dry.

The woman in front of her was... stunning, for lack of better word. Totally different from what she pictured what her supervisor would be. “Thank you,” she mumbled out of context, and instantly smacking herself for acting like a stupid dork. _Thank you? Thank you? Can you be any more awkward?_

The woman raised an eyebrow at the out of place reply but she didn’t address it. Without missing a beat and deciding that she needed to get to business, the woman introduced herself, “I’m Bellatrix Black, the Head Librarian here.” She didn’t offer a handshake to the new apprentice but instead motioning for Hermione to follow her with a gesture of her hand. “If you please follow me, Miss Granger, I’d like to explain a little about our ground rules.”

It took Hermione a blink to understand what the woman was asking of her as she was too transfixed at the woman—Ms. Black—figure as the other woman turned around and started walking. As if she had been put under a spell, Hermione’s feet started moving without the owner realising it; her brown eyes stared unwaveringly at the hips swaying quite provocatively in front of her.

Even though not wanting to go there, Hermione couldn’t help thinking that Bellatrix Black was a very attractive woman – and she was sure every creature with eyes would agree on that. The woman had to be older than Hermione—well, _duh_! And Hermione thought that she was probably in her mid to late forties. And just like fine wine, Ms. Black seemed to be better as she aged. This woman had this aura that screamed confidence and Hermione would bet her arms and legs that the older woman had no trouble at all getting whomever she wanted regardless of sex and sexual orientation to fall for her.

From the look of it, Ms. Black was shorter than Hermione by a few centimetres – the high heels were quite deceiving, though, so the brunette wasn’t sure. The older woman had pale alabaster skin which gave an impression of its never being touched by the sun. The skin was in complete contrast with the beautiful jet black hair the woman had; it was tied up in such manner that looked as if it was done half-heartedly but somehow looked very elegant. The hair was curly – so curly to the point that Hermione thought the treatment of such hair could only be done by magic.

Ms. Black was wearing a blood red blouse under her black blazer and a knee-length pencil skirt, holding the woman’s shape so snugly Hermione suspected the offensive material’s purpose was to show rather than cover. Hermione swallowed hard, brown eyes were still transfixed on the curves of the older woman’s body. A part of herself told her that if she weren’t into the fairer sex she wouldn’t be staring like that; another part told her that no women, straight or not, would pass the chance to ogle this kind of sight. Simply put, Ms. Bellatrix Black was everything that a librarian was... not.

The brown-eyed woman was never one to fall to a certain stereotype of how someone of a certain profession should look like, but she was not going to deny that sometimes the stereotypes were true. Take the librarians she knew personally, for instance. Some of them were fairly well-dressed, but there were some who looked like they went to work in a potato sack. Her thoughts drifted to the old Mrs. Drussels, her secondary school librarian, and that ancient flowery dress of hers. She suppressed a smile and shook her head at the thought.

“And what is it that you don’t understand?” Bellatrix sharply asked her apprentice. They had stopped in front of a big wooden counter and she was now facing the younger woman.

Hermione’s head snapped up to meet a dark gaze looking at her impatiently. She was confused for a second before it dawned to her that she hadn’t been listening to a single word her supervisor had said.

The head librarian’s eyes flared in disapproval as she recognised the puzzled look directed at her. Her posture was stiff now and she pursed her lips into a thin line. She made a clicking annoyed sound with her tongue. “I believe you haven’t been listening to me, Miss Granger,” she stated the obvious with such coldness that made Hermione shiver. “But since today is your first day, I’m going to consider it a first day jittery and will not mention anything about it. Please put in mind, though, Miss Granger, that I won’t have my assistant working with their heads in the cloud, do you understand me?”

“Yes, Ms. Black; I’m sorry – won’t happen again,” replied Hermione apologetically. She blushed again at the harsh words.

“We’ll see about that,” responded the librarian coolly. She fixed her gaze at the squirming young woman for a second longer before looking away, slightly annoyed. She had been made to deal with brainless, incompetent part-timers (every year was worse than the previous) every summer since she started working with the library; this year she told the boards that she was going to review the applicants’ files herself because she was fed up to put up with yet another spoilt brat for three months. She had chosen this young woman before her herself based on her resume and flying-coloured references written by her previous employers; maybe Bellatrix had decided too quickly.

“Sit down, Miss Granger,” she ordered, pointing at a high stool nearby. She reached over the desk and grabbed a piece of paper then handed it to Hermione. “Here are the written rules of what I tediously explained to you before,” Bellatrix spoke still in a cold tone, “read it.”

Taking the paper from the woman’s slender hand, Hermione started to read immediately. It was very basic rules, nothing Hermione hadn’t known before, so she only scanned the important points of them. What interested her more was the way the notes were written. She had expected printed rules; instead the paper she was holding was neatly handwritten. The strokes of every letter were slightly curvy but firm and precise; no ‘i’ was left un-dotted and no ‘t’ was left un-crossed. Clearly the person who wrote it was meticulous. It didn’t take long for Hermione to assume that it was the dark woman’s handwriting.

 “Any questions?”

Hermione shook her head. “No, Ma’am,” she responded readily, trying to change the negative image in her boss’ mind, if any. Her answer seemed to aggravate her boss as it earned her another clicking of the tongue.

“Don’t ‘ma’am’ me, Miss Granger, I am not the queen of England,” Bellatrix reproached flatly.

A confused look crossed the apprentice’s face; unsure whether to take it seriously or if the librarian was trying to lighten her nervousness. She shook her head again. “I’m sorry, Ms. Black.”

“And none of that, either,” the older woman cut off, “If we’re to work together, I won’t have you walking around addressing me like I’m my mother. I told you my name is Bellatrix, and thus you should call me.”

Fearing that she would make yet another wrong move, Hermione only nodded.

“There are four main desks on this floor: Membership Desk which is located outside on the hall, Enquiry Desk by the door, Return Desk on the South Block, and this one, the Circulation Desk,” Bellatrix then proceeded telling Hermione about her daily job descriptions, including checking their online library service and inspecting for damage on the books before and after people borrow them. “We usually have someone to take the uncollected books back to their respective shelves, but since it is summer holiday and the library won’t be as busy, it will be your additional job as well. Now, do you think that is too much or can you handle it fine?” she asked in the most condescending tone Hermione had ever heard in a person.

Hermione smiled at this, relieved that they reverted to the topic she was familiar with. “It’s fine, Ms. Bla–.. Bellatrix,” she answered, stumbling on the name as the boss raised an eyebrow at her. She cringed as she was not used to calling people she just knew (especially her supervisors) using their first names. Weird as it was, Hermione couldn’t help but admit that she like the sound of the older woman’s name on her tongue. _Wait, what?_

“Good,” Bellatrix responded quickly. She paused for a moment before adding, “Miss Granger, this is not a child’s play so I hope that you will inform me as soon as you find the task overwhelming. I will not judge if you decide that you can’t handle it.”

“I’m fine,” repeated Hermione confidently. This was not her first time working in a library and she knew what to do. Somehow the doubt in Bellatrix’s tone made her want to prove the librarian wrong.

The dark woman kept stared at Hermione for a while before nodding. “Then I don’t see why we can’t work well together,” she remarked. Holding out her hand to her subordinate, she said in a warm tone that Hermione hadn’t heard before, “Welcome to the Senate House Library, Miss Granger.”

Hermione took the pale hand offered to her and shook it, feeling the softness and coolness of the other woman’s skin. “Thank you. And please, call me Hermione.”

The warmth Hermione saw momentarily in the older woman’s dark eyes was gone in an instant. “Miss Granger,” Bellatrix repeated her own words, not so subtly telling Hermione that Bellatrix wouldn’t be dictated.

It was as if Hermione was slapped. Her cheeks reddened again, embarrassed at her own boldness and the heartless rejection from the other woman. It was wondrous, she thought, how Bellatrix could establish a distance between them in two words only – reminding Hermione on her place as a subordinate rather than an equal colleague.

Before she could do anything to safe herself from further embarrassment, a movement at the far corner of the library caught her attention. She turned her head to the direction of the library entrance, the one she used earlier, and saw someone get in.

There across the room was a tall and slightly thin woman. The figure wasn’t that attention catching but for the hair as it was... pink. Bright pink. The said woman was wearing a very casual outfit—a denim jacket on top of a faded yellow tee, and a pair of jeans which was torn in several places. Hermione was rendered speechless.

“That’s my other assistant, Nymphadora Tonks,” informed Bellatrix; she was amused to see the new girl’s expression but maintain a straight face. “She is a little bit eccentric but very efficient. I don’t suggest you follow her dress code, though, Miss Granger. One artist is more than enough in a library.”

 “Yo, Bells!” the woman greeted Bellatrix as she advanced at them. When she was close enough, Hermione noticed that the woman was only a few years older than she was – probably in her mid twenties or slightly older.

“Good morning, Dora,” the supervisor greeted back, smiling at her assistant. Dora had been Bellatrix’s assistant since the younger woman was still a student in UL and they were good colleagues. “You’re early.”

Hermione glanced at the large clock on the wall. It was half past eight – wasn’t the staff supposed to come earlier?

“My boyfriend snored,” the pink-haired woman grumbled casually. She looked at Hermione. “You’re the new girl? I’m Dora Tonks. Feel free not to call me Nymphadora,” she said.

“This is Hermione Granger, Dora. She will be working with you,” Bellatrix told the other woman.

At this point Hermione didn’t know if she should tell Miss Tonks to call her Hermione or not; she didn’t want to repeat the same mistake. She opted to do what her parents always taught her to do instead. “How do you do?”

Dora stared at Hermione for a second before glancing at Bellatrix, exchanging an is-she-for-real look with the older woman, who had to grit her teeth so as not to laugh.

 “Oh, lighten up a bit, Hermione, you sound like my grandmother!” Dora openly laughed, patting the young woman on her shoulder.

It was a small but friendly gesture and Hermione felt instantly at ease. Her shoulders relaxed and not until then did she realise how tense she had been previously. Nymphadora Tonks had this charm to make people feel relaxed; something that couldn’t be said about Bellatrix Black.

After another few casual banters as well as job-related talk between the two older librarians, Bellatrix left for her office, which was located on the seventh floor next to the archive room.

Without being able to stop herself, Hermione’s eyes followed Bellatrix’s form as the dark woman walked away. A part of her was glad that she was now out of the prying dark eyes but the other part was a little disappointed to know that Bellatrix was not going to be working with them. Hermione had this weird urge to prove herself to the head librarian and how would she do that if the person was not going to see her work?

“She’s not scary as she looks, promise,” the pink haired woman said, “You’ll see.”

The young woman forced a smile. “Yes,” she whispered, throwing another fleeting look at retreating Belatrix before following Dora to their post and focusing herself on the woman’s explanation. _Yes,_ _I’ll see_.

The rest of her first day went smoothly afterward; she was introduced to the rest of the staff but didn’t really have the chance to talk to them much because she had a lot to process into her brain. She didn’t see her supervisor again that day. She found it strange that the older woman didn’t even come to check her work but she kept it to herself. When she clocked out that evening, Hermione felt so exhausted that she couldn’t think. The work itself wasn’t tiring physically so it had to be all the excitement of adjusting to a new workplace and also due to the nervousness she had had this morning.

 By the time Hermione climbed into her bed, she had no energy left to think. It didn’t take long for her to fall asleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not sure if anyone still wants to read this.. but here goes nothing.

It didn’t take long for Hermione to get used to her new routine at work: she would come early to work with bagels and two cups of coffee to share with the security guard, Peter, downstairs; then she would go upstairs and spend some time checking the Online Stack Service to see if anyone would pick up or return any books that day until Dora arrived and chatter about the most random things.

She always seemed to be the first to arrive at work—well, second, really, because Bellatrix seemed to always arrive before her. Hermione wondered if the woman ever left the building at all; the lights in Bellatrix’s office were always on whenever Hermione left in the evening.

It was in fact unnecessary for Hermione to come as early as she did. There was not much to be done and despite there being only five people—Bellatrix, Dora, two young men her age, and herself—managing all four floors of the library, they still had plenty of free time, which they usually spent chatting at the Desk. Yet, Hermione still arrived early at work. She enjoyed being alone where books were her only company (well, there was Bellatrix, but she didn’t really count, did she?).

Hermione noticed that Bellatrix rarely joined their afternoon chat, especially when Hermione was around. Once or twice Hermione would see the dark librarian come down and talk with the others while Hermione was cataloguing books on other levels, but Bellatrix would leave as soon as she saw Hermione returning to the Desk. Another thing she couldn’t help notice was that Bellatrix called everyone except Hermione by their first names. It was as if Bellatrix was trying to single her out. It was annoying. After a while, she did voice the concern to Dora, who quickly dismissed it—saying that Hermione was thinking too much, that Bellatrix was never very friendly with anyone anyway. _Right_.

That night before going to bed, Hermione added something in her to-do list: making Bellatrix Black like her before the summer ended.

* * *

 

The next morning, Hermione came earlier than usual. She was a woman on a mission—no, not _that_ one: she had come across an old history book about Scotland when she had been putting books on the shelves yesterday. She had taken the book out and put it on the Circulation Desk so she didn’t have to go all the way to the sixth floor.

Grinning with the anticipation of a book waiting for her, Hermione quickly climbed the stairs. She no longer bothered taking the lift now—she could use the extra exercise. Her smile quickly faltered when she entered the library.

Bellatrix was standing by the Desk with her a hand on her hip. The other hand was holding a book—the very one Hermione had left on the Desk. The older woman looked very cross. Hermione swallowed hard. “Bellatrix,” she whispered in a choked tone.

“Miss Granger,” said the woman in a tone that made Hermione shivered. “Would you mind explaining about this?” That wasn’t even a question. Hermione opened her mouth but no words came out, knowing that whatever she said would be the wrong answer. She almost cried when Bellatrix spoke again, still very coldly. “Come to my office, please, Miss Granger. I’d like to speak to you.” And that wasn’t a request. With the book in hand, Bellatrix turned around and left the younger woman without so much as another look.

Millions of thought ran in Hermione’s head, each though worse than the previous. She knew she had messed up. Badly. No books were supposed to be left unattended on the counter; they were supposed to be put in the container. That was a basic rule and she had managed to screw up only because she had been too lazy to walk to the sixth floor. She hit her head with the base of the palm and quickly walked to Bellatrix’s office, knowing that she was only delaying the inevitable.

She took a deep breath before knocking at the door. It felt like forever before there was a reply asking her to come in. Hermione had never been in Bellatrix’s office before, and she was quite surprised to find that it wasn’t like what she had imagined before.

It wasn’t a large office, and most of the space was filled with bookcases and file storages, but it still looked neat and welcoming. The walls were covered with cream-coloured wallpaper and there were some certificates in classy frames on the left-side of the wall. Opposite the door was a large black wooden desk on top of which were stacks of paper and an odd-shaped paperweight. There was a glass case behind Bellatrix’s chair, and Hermione could see personal photographs. She swept her eyes over the pictures and recognised her supervisor in some of them.

“If you have finished gawking, Miss Granger, would you please sit down?” Bellatrix spoke rather curtly. She looked straight at Hermione, who was blushing furiously at being caught looking around, and waited until the young woman sat down.

“I’m sorry, Ms. Black,” Hermione mumbled. Before Bellatrix could say anything, she continued, “I know I’ve made a terrible mistake, but please... this will be my last time making mistakes. Please—please give me another cha—..” Bellatrix lifted her index finger to cut her off, immediately shutting Hermione up mid-sentence.

“Have I asked you to speak?” the dark woman asked rhetorically. She leaned forward and rested her elbows on the wooden surface, clasping her hands together as she stared at Hermione until the younger woman fidget. She waited a couple of seconds—just enough time to make Hermione break in cold sweat—before saying, “You disappoint me, Miss Granger. I expected more sense from you, but apparently I expected too much.”

Bellatrix spoke so softly that it struck Hermione hard. She had thought that she would be reprimanded harshly and coldly, yet Bellatrix sounded more like she was... sad. Hermione lowered her head; she couldn’t look Bellatrix in the eyes.

“Books are all that matters in a library, Miss Granger. You can’t call a place a library if it hasn’t any books,” the librarian stated. She stroke the leather cover of the book Hermione had left. Her eyes were still fixed at the young woman. “We can’t afford to lose any books, no matter what their values may be. I gather you are smart enough to know that I’m not talking about money?” She watched as Hermione gave a small nod. “You may think I am exaggerating. You may even be thinking ‘who would break into a library?’”

 _Many people would_ , Hermione answered in her head _, many people who knew the value of rare books would_.

“This book you took here... it is one of the oldest and most valuable in our library. But that fact is not the problem. The problem is that you actually took out a book out of its shelf without checking it out, _and_ that you left it overnight on the Circulation Desk,” Bellatrix said in even tone. “I’m sure you are aware of the rules? And I don’t care if you young people think that rules are made to be broken. Rules are never to be broken here—not under _my_ supervision.”

Hermione chanced a glance at Bellatrix, who was still looking at her with a pair of eyes so dark they were almost black. Never in her life had she felt as small and inconsequential as she was now.

“Now, do you have authority problem, Miss Granger?”

The brunette shook her head, feeling as if she was about to cry in shame. “No, Ms. Black,” she replied weakly. _Stupid, stupid Hermione!_ She berated herself.

“Or perhaps you have a problem reading and understanding a rule?” continued Bellatrix, raising her tone a notch. She watched as the brunette shook her head again, still refusing to look at her. “Then which part of ‘not leaving books unattended’ do you not understand?”

The not-so-subtle insult made Hermione blush even harder. She lifted her head, bracing herself for a condescending look from the older woman. But there was none—she was met with a dead cold stare that sent shivers down her spine. She swallowed hard and winced at the squeak that was her voice when she tried to speak. “Ms. Black, please let me explain,” she pleaded, and before Bellatrix could interrupt her, she quickly added, “I will accept any consequences, any disciplinary measures you deem fit, but please give me at least a chance to explain.”

Bellatrix raised her eyebrows, saying nothing as she kept staring at Hermione impassively. It wasn’t long until Hermione, feeling defeated by the silent treatment, broke eye contact and averted her gaze to the pictures behind. She found herself staring at one particular picture—a picture of Bellatrix wearing a sundress, smiling brightly at the camera.

“Well? I certainly do not have all day,” the librarian’s tone was vicious.

She had to tear her eyes from the picture. “I love this job,” the brunette whispered, “and I need it.” As soon as the words left her mouth, Hermione panicked. _What the hell_? She wasn’t above pleading, but nobody in their right minds would take her seriously with that oh-so-pathetic excuse.

If anything, that wasn’t the explanation (or excuse, or whatever) Bellatrix had expected. She had actually expected a lie or other lame excuses one would craft when they were in hot water. She pondered her options: should she drop the subject this time? Should she let her off with a warning—or a penalty or some kind? Or should she just fire the girl on the spot? Of course the last option seemed a little over the top, but that had never stopped Bellatrix before. She had laid off assistants for reasons more trivial than this without even blinking. _But none of them were as good or as hardworking, were they_? A small voice in her head asked.

Bellatrix wasn’t ignorant. She rarely left her office to personally supervise her assistants, but that didn’t mean she was unaware of what was going on downstairs. She was quite perceptive and she trusted her assistants enough to let them do what they were supposed to do. Hermione’s hard work and efficiency hadn’t gone unnoticed by her—the young woman was exceptionally good and careful (if not obsessively meticulous) when handling books. Bellatrix also knew that Hermione was always the first one to arrive in the morning after her and the last to leave before her.

While Bellatrix was musing of what action she should take, Hermione was preparing herself to be kicked out any time. The silence became unbearable after some time and Hermione decided that maybe she should just resign to save herself from future embarrassment. But just as she opened her mouth to speak, Bellatrix had beaten her to it.

“Prove it,” the dark woman said.

Hermione blinked, not sure if she had heard right. And from the look of it, she thought Bellatrix was also surprised by her own words.

“Go back to work, Miss Granger, before I change my mind.” Bellatrix pushed the book at Hermione’s direction. “I don’t want to see this—or any other books—lying around the second time.”

Feeling so light as if a heavy burden had just been lifted off her shoulders, Hermione beamed—her face glowed as she smiled in gratitude. She took the book with both hands and held it close to her chest. She mumbled her thanks and hurriedly walked to the door, but she had only walked a couple of steps before Bellatrix called her out again. Hermione turned around, hoping that the older woman didn’t have a change of heart.

“It’s ‘Bellatrix,’” the dark woman reminded. “Don’t make me repeat that again. Now leave.”

Hermione stared agape for a second, confused. Then she realised that she had called the other woman ‘Ms. Black’ instead of her first name—apparently it didn’t go unnoticed. She blushed. “Thank you... Bellatrix,” she said for the last time before leaving the office. Her heart beat fast and hard against her ribcage, and Hermione wasn’t sure if it was relief... or something else.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *peeks* Err... yeah, so I'm updating again. I know it's been a year and a half. SORRY!!! And sorry for not replying to the comments. I intended to, but then I completely forgot about it until it was months later. Yes, lame excuse. I apologise. 
> 
> Anyway, if you don't mind rereading chapter two, I did a massive editing on that (the plot is still the same, though). 
> 
> This chapter is a bit of a filler, so I'm not sure if you're gonna like it or not. 
> 
> One more thing, I somehow decided to take this story to another direction. If you guys read my bellamione story Glimpses, you will be familiar with Dru. Well, my point is that I'm going to have Bella be a single mom in this story. If it is not to your liking, I am really sorry. 
> 
> Well, I'm gonna shut up now. Oh, I almost forget. Standard disclaimer: The characters are not mine, but the plot and the mistakes are. Thanks for (still waiting) and reading.

Hermione became more self-conscious about what she was doing at work after the incident. Of course that didn’t mean she changed what she did drastically; she still arrived early at work and did everything she was supposed to do like usual (including spending a good hour or so listening to TMI updates on Dora’s love life). The brunette simply decided that reading books at the Desk was a form of indulgence she wouldn’t allow herself to do anymore.

It didn’t take long until Dora noticed the change, but when she’d made a remark on it the younger woman said that she didn’t have time to do it anymore. Both of them knew it was a bullshit excuse, and Hermione was quite grateful the pink-haired woman didn’t call her out on that despite her knowing that Dora knew it was a lie. Well, at least not yet.

A week later, while they were sitting cross-legged on the floor tagging new books, Dora brought the topic back up. “You know you don’t have to stop reading just because you made one silly mistake, don’t you?”

Hermione tilted her head. “Huh? What do you mean?”

Dora rolled her eyes. “You. Reading books at the Desk. You’re not doing it anymore now.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” replied Hermione, avoiding Dora’s eyes. She took another book and pretended to carefully putting a sticker on it.

“Right,” Dora scoffed. “ _Right_.”

The brunette sighed in resignation. “I just want to avoid trouble, you know.”

“Trouble? Since when ‘reading a book’ becomes a problem? This is a freaking library!” Dora shook her head. “You are a bloody idiot.”

Hermione shrugged. She really wasn’t in the mood for an argument. She could feel Dora’s eyes looking at her but she kept her head low, hoping that the other woman would drop the topic. And for some time they worked in silence. Until Dora spoke again.

“Why are you so afraid of Bella anyway?”

“I’m not afraid of Bellatrix!” Hermione threw a quick glance up to make sure nobody else but Dora heard her. “I’m not afraid of Bellatrix,” she repeated in a whisper. She glared at Dora when the older woman snickered. “Really, I’m not. I just—... why are we talking about this, again?”

“You’re deflecting.”

“I’m not.”

“Are, too.”

“Am not, too.”

“What are you, five?”

Hermione replied hotly, “You started it.” She put the book she was holding with a little more force than necessary. “And seriously, Dora, I’m not afraid of Bellatrix. I respect her. And I... well, I...”

“ _Yeah_?”

“I just don’t want to give her a reason to hate me more than she already has now,” she finally sighed in defeat.

Dora stared at her incredulously with her mouth hanging. “What the hell are you talking about?” she asked. “What on earth makes you—... Bellatrix _doesn’t_ hate you.”

“Well, she has a funny way to show it, then,” the brunette hissed under her breath. She stood up, tucked in a strand of loose lock behind her ear and began to load the tagged books into the cart. Hermione ranted while she worked, “She never really looks at me. She never really talks to me unless it’s work related. She’s all ‘Miss Granger this’ and ‘Miss Granger that.’ I think the only reason she didn’t fire me is because she wouldn’t be able to find a replacement on time.” She practically threw the last book into the cart before stalking off to the rows of shelves.

“Wow, talk about dramatic.” Dora shook her head and chuckled. She followed Hermione to the shelves, thinking about what to say to make the new girl feel less miserable. “Look,” she began, “I understand that Bellatrix can be very intimidating sometimes, and she overreacts a lot, too. But underneath all those snarls and curls, she is a really good person.” Dora winked at Hermione when she caught the brunette smiled at the mention of Bellatrix’s hair. “Really, ‘Mione, you have to trust me on this: Bella doesn’t hate you. Believe me—you’ll know it if Bellatrix Black hates someone. Do you really think that you’d still be working here after that stupid stunt last week if she hated you?” The pink-haired woman raised her eyebrows, challenging Hermione to answer. When there was no reply, she said, “Just what I thought.”

“She keeps calling me ‘Miss Granger’.”

“So? Isn’t that your name?”

“That’s not.... She calls you Dora.” Hermione was frustrated. Why couldn’t Dora see the problem? “She doesn’t call Harry ‘Mr. Potter.’ Or—or Ron ‘Mr. Weasley,’ does she?”

“She did. Until she didn’t,” Dora deadpanned. “Do you realise you’re not making any sense? Why does it matter anyway?

“Because it does,” Hermione retorted stubbornly, unable to put her fingers on why it mattered. She blinked away hot tears that were threatening to fall.  “It’s not nice to be singled out.”

This time, Dora said nothing. She just stood there and watched the young woman, who busied herself putting books away. She felt for Hermione, and she could understand why the other woman was feeling rejected. Dora sighed inaudibly. Sometimes she forgot that some people, unlike her, needed acceptance from others. “If it makes you feel better, Bella didn’t call me ‘Dora’ until I worked here for a year or so. She terrorised the hell of me that first year.”

Hermione said nothing.

“And Harry—oh, how he hated her guts the first months he worked here. Bella was awful to him, knowing that he couldn’t quit even if he wanted to,” Dora recalled. “But look where they’re at now. So, Hermione, maybe if you can be less negative about all this, you’ll see that Bella is actually a good person. She doesn’t warm up easily to people—that’s just how she is.” She patted Hermione on the shoulder and left the young woman alone after saying, “You just wait and see, okay?”

* * *

 

She and Dora didn’t talk much after that, and for the first time in several weeks Hermione was actually relieved when the pink-haired woman finally called it a day. Hermione admitted that she was being ridiculous; she recognised Dora’s earnestness to help her, to make her feel better. Yet, instead of being thankful that someone would care enough to get out of their way for her, Hermione just pushed her away.  _What are you trying to prove, idiot_? She admonished herself. 

Hermione was looking for the book she wanted to borrow on the fifth floor when she heard the door to Bellatrix’s office two levels above opening and closing. It was followed by a sharp click indicating that the door was locked, and then footsteps going down the stairs. Hermione raised her eyebrows and looked at her watch; it was only five-thirty—well past opening hours, but was still too early even for Hermione to go home, let alone for her supervisor (who, if Peter was saying the truth, never left work before seven every single night).

She held her breath when the footsteps seemed to stop when Bellatrix reached the fifth floor, where Hermione was. The woman wouldn’t have a way to know that Hermione was there, would she? A moment passed. The footsteps went moving again and Hermione exhaled in relief—too relieved that she didn’t realise that the footsteps were actually moving towards her direction.

“Miss Granger.”

Hermione squeaked in total surprise. She literally jumped at the voice and she spun so quickly her vision became a blur for a split second. The brunette clutched a hand on her chest, looking at Bellatrix like she was a creature of the dark. “Be... Bellatrix,” Hermione stuttered out. How the hell did she know Hermione was there?

The dark woman raised an eyebrow; obviously she was unimpressed with how Hermione reacted. But she made no comment on that. Instead, she said, “I’m heading out now. I won’t be back, so please lock everything up later when you leave.” She waited for a second for Hermione to reply, but the assistant merely nodded. Bellatrix opened her mouth again to say something else, but she hesitated before quickly closing it without saying another word. She nodded at Hermione and turned to leave.

From her peripheral she could see that Hermione was rooted on the spot watching her leave, and Bellatrix couldn’t help but roll her eyes. The girl was obviously scared of her. For what reason? Bellatrix could only guess. _Silly girl_ , she thought as she walked away, her eyes glinted naughtily. She was going to have so much fun this year.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well at least it took me less than a year to update this now.. sorry for not updating sooner, tho.
> 
> Been busy with work and my thesis. Wrote this today because I'm just so tired of working and writing my thesis. And because lately I've been thinking of ending my life. I thought that maybe if I could force myself to continue one of my stories I wouldn't be thinking about death all the time. But well, of course nobody is interested in an author's note, so why bother, right?
> 
> Have fun reading. Hopefully I can get to the next chapter soon(er).

“You need to stop terrorising her, you know.”

Bellatrix cocked her eyebrows but didn’t look up from the monitor. “By all means, Miss Tonks,” she started as she continued working on her reports. “Go on and start in the middle—because we both know I’m so good at reading minds.”

The pink-haired woman rolled her eyes; she walked into Bellatrix’s office and plopped down unceremoniously on the chair nearest to the door. “You know what I’m on about,” she pointed out, ignoring the sarcasm.

“Hmm... do I?” the dark woman asked distractedly, not once glancing at her assistant.

“Seriously, Bells—the girl’s terrified of you,” Dora pressed.

“And who’s this ‘girl’ you reckon I’ve been ‘terrorising’?”

“Oh, you’re just the worst!” Dora huffed, “Why can’t you be human for a bit and stop acting like the big bad witch of the century? Hermione works really well and she doesn’t deserve being scared to her wits just because you are having a year-long PMS.”

The typing immediately stopped. Bellatrix looked pointedly at the younger woman through the top of her glasses. “This is still working hours, Miss Tonks.”

The assistant waved a hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah—drop the tone. ‘Miss Tonks’-ing me won’t work.”

Bellatrix heaved a sigh and counted to ten as she took off her glasses and threw it to the desk. She pinched the bridge of her nose, feeling a migraine coming. It was clear that she wouldn’t be able to get anything done if she ignored Dora. “What do you want?” she relented.

“For you to stop being a bitch.”

“Excuse me?” The dark woman’s tone raised a notch. “As far as I’m concerned, I’ve always treated Miss Granger with utmost respect. I don’t think I’ve even interacted with her that much to... to...—what was that word you used before? _Terrorise_ her.”

“Now, now! As far as _Hermione_ is concerned, that _utmost respect_ you’ve been giving her _is_ terrorising!” Dora said.

“How in the bloody hell is that my problem?!” Bella asked. “If Miss Granger can’t differentiate professionalism from hostility then perhaps it is _her_ you should be berating. Not me.”

Dora clicked her tongue impatiently, muttering under her breath, “Like I didn’t try that.”

“Oh, I so hear that,” Bella scoffed. “Honestly, Dora, why bother? She’s only here to help out this summer—once the term starts, she’ll be out of here. I don’t see any reasons why she can’t hang on a little bit without me having to make it easy for her.”

“I like her.” Dora waited a second. “ _You_ like her.” She watched as Bella halted her movement—the older woman was reaching for her migraine pills—and glared at her murderously. Dora didn’t even flinch. She stood up and leisurely walked to the door. “Don’t be so dramatic, Madame Black. You know I was right. And don’t try to deny it. You know I know that you treat people like shit when you actually like them.” She paused at the door. “Be nice, Bellatrix. People like Hermione aren’t easy to come by.”

As the door clicked shut, Bellatrix knew that her day was totally ruined.

* * *

 

Hermione was cleaning up the Desk when her peripheral caught the sight of Bellatrix walking down the stairs. She glanced at her watch and frowned—it was only a quarter after six. She noticed that Bellatrix wasn't wearing her coat. And Hermione was completely aware that she was the only person left there, so Bellatrix couldn't be looking for Harry or Dora.  _Why is she coming down_?

Bellatrix stopped at the foot of the stairs. “Miss Granger,” she called out.

The tone of Bellatrix’s voice turned Hermione’s blood cold. Her heart began to race; she started to panic. _Calm down, Hermione_ , she berated herself. “Yes, Bellatrix?” she replied, hoping that her fear wasn’t showing.

“Can you come to my office? I need to speak to you.” Without waiting for an answer, the older woman turned around and walked away.

On hearing that, tears began to fill Hermione’s eyes. “A-am I fired?”

Bellatrix stopped on her tracks at the question and turned to face Hermione. Looking at the tearful eyes, the dark woman tsk-ed. “You’re surely quick to jump to the worst case scenario, aren’t you, young lady?” she muttered in bewilderment, approaching the younger woman as she spoke. “What did you do wrong now?”

“Huh?”

The librarian raised her eyebrows. “What did you do wrong?” she repeated, only to receive Hermione’s confused look (and still very teary) as an answer. “Well, you were quite sure I was going to fire you, so I guess you must have done something utterly stupid again, right?”

Hermione was speechless for a moment.

“Out with it, Granger,” Bellatrix urged, ignoring a tear that escaped the younger woman’s eyelashes, “I don’t have all night.”

“I... I didn’t..,” Hermione stuttered.

“You didn’t what? You didn’t do anything wrong?” The younger woman nodded. “Then why did you think I would—... Do you honestly think that I go around firing people just because I feel like it? Oh, for the love of god! For someone so smart, Miss Granger, you can be so daft!” Bellatrix took out a handkerchief from the pocket of her slacks and practically threw it at Hermione. “There. Wipe your tears. I can’t stand people crying for nothing.”

Too stunned to think, Hermione took the handkerchief and did exactly what Bellatrix told her. Her eyes followed Bellatrix as the librarian walked around the Desk and sat on Dora’s chair, motioning for Hermione to sit, too. Hermione sat down immediately. She waited.

Bella eyed the young woman in front of her half amusedly. She tapped a finger on the armrest and watched with interest as Hermione’s eyes focused in on her steady movement. “Are you that afraid of me?”

The question came out as a surprise to the both of them. Bellatrix bit her tongue, but it was already a bit too late to swallow the question back. Hermione whipped her head upwards, looking at Bellatrix with eyes wide as saucer.

The older woman cleared her throat, hiding her embarrassment. “Well?”

“Yes.”

It was such a spontaneous answer that Bellatrix reckoned Hermione didn’t mean to admit it in the first place. And of course she was right, judging from how Hermione gasped and how her hand flew to cover her mouth in an instant. The dark woman suppressed her smile and nodded in acknowledgement. “I see.”

“Bellatrix, I...” Hermione began, but was cut off by Bella’s dismissive wave.

“Apology acknowledged,” Bella said lightly. “I was actually asking to speak to you about your salary transfer. Somehow the transfer bounced back, so I guess you didn’t give me the correct account number or I inputted it wrongly. Seeing the state you are in now, maybe it would be better to postpone it until tomorrow.” She stood up and began to leave. “See me first thing in the morning tomorrow.”

“Bellatrix,” Hermione called out. The other woman stopped but didn’t turn around. “I’m sorry,” she said.

The dark woman tilted her head towards her. “Good night, Miss Granger.”

...

Hermione slept uneasily that night as Bellatrix’s words kept replaying in her head... “Apology acknowledged.” _But not accepted_.

And she thought her summer couldn’t get any worse.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this time I don't wait another year to update. 
> 
> Continuing this fic, surprisingly, really helps me cope with the stress of work and thesis. I am still feeling really low, and the thought of death cannot be avoided, but at least I have an outlet. I created a reward system: if I can work on my thesis and/or do some gradings/make teaching preparations, I can spend some time to write a few paragraphs of this story. So far it's been working. So I think the updates will be quite steady until after my stress level is down to a more manageable level... then it would probably go back to waiting for some time before I can update (hopefully this story has finished by then)
> 
> Thank you for leaving encouragements and support. I really appreciate every single message you left me on here. I am really sorry that I put you through my sh*t when you must be having a lot on your own plates. 
> 
> Here's the next (very un-beta-ed) update. All mistakes are mine. Per usual.

Hermione had already known what Bellatrix’s first sentence would be even before she raised her hand to knock at the door to the supervisor’s office, which was partly open. She sucked in her inner cheek to stop herself from grinning when Bellatrix actually said the exact words while motioning for Hermione to come in without looking at her.

“You’re late, Miss Granger.”

Hermione stepped into the office, mumbling her apology. She had only been a couple of steps inside before she was told to close the door behind her. “Sorry,” she said again. As the door shut with a sharp _click_ , Hermione couldn’t help feeling trapped—like she was a mouse cornered by a dangerous cat that was Bellatrix. Her eyes wandered around to see whether there was another way out, then she caught herself and blushed furiously for being so foolish. She cleared her throat and walked towards Bellatrix’ desk, telling herself to stop acting like a mentally challenged woman.

“Give me a minute.” Bellatrix typed Hermione’s name into the database search box and opened the file she was looking for as she spoke. She scanned over the file to find the parts that were still flagged red before turning the monitor sideways so that Hermione could also see from where the young woman was sitting. “That your bank account number?”

“No,” Hermione said, “The last two numbers were wrong. Nine-oh, not double zero.”

“Hmm...” Bellatrix retyped the numbers and told Hermione to read the rest of the file and see whether all of the information was correct. When she was done typing, she opened the folder on her desk and skimmed through it. She raised her eyebrows as she found what she was looking for. She shoved the paper towards Hermione with a finger. “It says double zero in this one,” she stated matter-of-factly. She observed as the woman before her turned red and struggled to find words. Bellatrix shook her head. “I was just stating a fact, Miss Granger. Breathe,” she commanded. “And don’t cry.”

“Sorry.”

“And stop saying sorry. Jesus Christ, do you always have to be this dramatic every time I say a word to you?”

“Sor...” Hermione stopped herself right in time when Bellatrix glared at her with a pointed look. She knew that Bellatrix had a point; she did react dramatically whenever Bellatrix was around. The problem was that Hermione herself couldn’t understand why she behaved the way she did. All that she knew was that the older woman evoked something inside of her. She took a deep breath and blinked her tears away.

Bellatrix watched silently as the younger woman tried to compose herself. The gears in her brain were turning, thinking about her next steps. Dora was apparently right—Hermione was terrified of her. Bellatrix frowned at the thought; she was sure that she wasn’t overly strict with this woman in any way. She treated all her new staff the same way until she was sure that they were worthy of her trust, but somehow this young lady took it so differently. Was it Bellatrix that was out of line this time? Or was it Hermione who was over sensitive? Unable to put on the blame to either of them, she sighed tiredly, concluding that maybe she had grown too old to be dealing with young people like Hermione Granger.

“You alright?” she began when she saw that Hermione no longer looked like she was going to explode any second.

“Yes, sorry.”

“What did I just say about apologising?”

“Right. Sorry.” Hermione crinkled her nose when her tongue traitorously rolled out the word. She lowered her head and peeked at Bellatrix through her eyelashes, trying to gauge the older woman’s reaction.

Bellatrix almost, _almost_ snorted at the oh-so-automatic reply. It was as if Hermione’s default when talking to her was to say ‘sorry.’ “You sound like a broken record, you know.” This time, Hermione managed to stop herself from saying the stupid word that was already on the tip of her tongue. It was a clear struggle, and Bellatrix could see it. She let out a soft chuckle.

Hermione’s head whipped upwards at the unexpected sound. This was the first time she heard Bellatrix laugh, and Hermione could swear that it was one of the most beautiful sounds she had ever heard. Suddenly she wasn’t feeling so trapped anymore. Hermione could feel the sides of her mouth lifting to form a smile.

“Oh look, she can smile, apparently,” Bellatrix commented dryly; she counted to five to see whether her comment would change Hermione’s demeanour again. For some odd reasons, she felt relieved when it didn’t. She cleared her throat. “So,” she began in a more serious tone, “back to business.” She tapped on the monitor, prompting the younger woman to check the information written there.

“Everything seems correct, Bellatrix,” Hermione answered readily.

“Good.” Bella glanced at her watch. “Thank you. Go back to work, Miss Granger.” She dismissed her staff with a nod, but before Hermione reached the door she had called her out again. Hermione turned around with a questioning look, and for a moment Bellatrix was at a loss of words. She didn’t even know why she called Hermione’s name out in the first place. She blurted out the first thing that came into her mind, “Don’t be late again tomorrow.”

There was a glint of confusion in Hermione’s eyes, but the younger woman only nodded and replied dutifully, “Yes, Bellatrix, Ma’am.”

* * *

 

“You’re smiling,” was the first thing Dora said to Hermione as the younger woman returned to the Desk. She was genuinely surprised—she was expecting yet another teary episode.

“What?”

“That,” Dora pointed out, motioning at Hermione’s face with her hand, “You. Smiling. After being called to Bella’s office.” She squinted and leaned forward. “Spill.”

The brunette shrugged nonchalantly; she reached for the pile of books she needed to register as returned and said without looking at Dora, “I put in the wrong account number. She couldn’t transfer my salary. I corrected it just now. That’s it. Oh, come on, Dora!” Her work was interrupted as the older woman wrapped her arms around the books and dragged them away from Hermione.

“That’s so _not_ it,” Dora pried. “You were late this morning. For the first time. _Ever_. When you arrived this morning you looked like you didn’t sleep a wink. And now you’re actually smiling like an idiot. See that—... you’re trying to stop smiling. See! Look at you! Something must have happened last night—something must have happened _just now_. Don’t you dare ‘that’s it’ me.”

“Dora, I’m actually trying to work here,” Hermione deflected, stretching out her arm to reach the books without success. “And this is still working hours.”

“‘ _This is still working hours_ ’ my arse,” Dora repeated in mocking tone. “You’re just as awful as the witch up there.”

Hermione was about to retaliate when a familiar voice beat her to it. “Well, she’s got a point there, Miss Tonks. This _is_ still working hours.”

She looked up to see Bellatrix standing at the foot of the stairs with one hand on her hip, glaring threateningly at the two of them, but mostly at Dora. If look could kill, Hermione was sure Dora would have dropped dead right then and there. She chanced a glance at the woman next to her; she’d never seen Dora so mortified—she was bright red to the root of her hair and to her neck, and she had the expression of a child getting caught with a hand inside the cookie jar. Hermione turned her attention back to Bellatrix when her peripheral caught a movement. The librarian was approaching them. _Uh-oh_ , she thought.

Bellatrix said nothing at first as she was towering over the two younger women who were sitting at the Desk, looking back at her like she was going to curse them into oblivion. She quirked an eyebrow at Dora. “And it’s been awhile since the last time I was called a witch,” she deadpanned.

Hermione couldn’t decide whether Bellatrix was joking or if she was furious. And apparently this time, Dora couldn’t either. A few seconds passed in silence since they were too afraid to say anything. Hermione thought she saw a glint of amusement in Bellatrix’s eyes, but it was gone in a flash, and she thought she must have been hallucinating.

“At least my daughter had the decency to throw me a broom when she called me that.” Bella was smiling when she said that.

And just like that, before Hermione could wrap her head around what was happening around her, the tension broke. Dora let out a relieved sigh followed by a fit of laughter. “You crazy bitch!”

“I thought you said I was a witch,” Bella quipped without missing a beat, winking at the pink-haired woman. She glanced at the still confused Hermione and couldn’t help but smile a little. It was so easy to frighten her it was funny—Hermione was like a scared kitten. She tapped at the Desk in front her. “Miss Granger,” she said, pausing until after Hermione was really looking at her. “Breathe.” She motioned at the two of them. "Go back to work. These books wouldn't magically registered themselves." Bellatrix left like a breeze afterwards.

Probably, Hermione thought as she went about her day, her summer wasn't exactly disastrous anyway. 


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Good news:  
> 1\. I didn't wait until a year to update  
> 2\. My thesis is finished and I am still alive
> 
> Not-so-good news:  
> 1\. I am stressed out about my thesis defense in three weeks.
> 
> Anyway, hope you enjoy this one. Thanks for (still) reading this.
> 
> Per usual, all mistakes are mine and mine alone. I didn't beta read this.

Camden Lock Market was as busy as it could be on a Saturday afternoon, and Hermione thought it was quite lucky that she and her friend Luna could get there early as she was watching the throngs of people making their ways through the narrow passages—bumping shoulders and mumbling ‘sorry’ and ‘excuse me’ right and left—from where they were sitting now. It had been some time since she last went to this place, and if it weren’t for Luna begging Hermione to help with her art project the brunette wouldn’t have been there.

They had spent the whole morning hunting for everything Luna needed, and now they were sitting at a small burger joint enjoying their late lunch while catching up with what they had been doing during the break. It didn’t take long for Luna to start asking questions about the cryptic texts the brunette had been sending her about the head librarian that was—Hermione’s words—“beyond imagination.”

“You know, I should really like to meet your boss,” Luna suddenly spoke after a while.

Hermione coughed as the orange juice she was drinking went down the wrong pipe. She grabbed a napkin and wiped her mouth while glaring at the blonde sitting opposite her. “What?! No, you don’t!” she said in horror.

“Why not?” Luna asked, taking a bite into her chips. “She sounds like an interesting person.”

“’Interesting’ is not a word I’d use to describe her,” Hermione mumbled. She threw the napkin onto the table “Were you even listening to me the whole time?”

Luna shrugged. “Not really,” she said dreamily in a fashion that was so Luna Lovegood that Hermione wanted to choke her. “I was looking at that necklace over there, you see. You think I should buy it?”

The brunette didn’t even bother looking at the direction pointed; she made a noncommittal sound that Luna took as a ‘yes’. The next thing she knew, Luna had trotted to the kiosk selling the necklace across the street and left her to keep an eye on their bags. Hermione slumped to the chair and sighed—she should’ve known that going to Camden with Luna was never a good idea. She rolled her eyes at the pile of stuff sitting on the empty chair next to her; half of them weren’t even the supply Luna needed for her project—they were simply bought because “they look oh-so-beautiful.”

While waiting, Hermione took out her phone and began taking pictures of random stuff until her camera caught a familiar figure which made her froze mid-action. Just a few steps away was Bellatrix Black; she was walking with her head held high, arm-in-arm with a tall blonde woman like they owned the streets. Hermione glanced around to find a place to hide, but then she heard Luna’s sing-song voice calling her from behind. She chanced a look at Bellatrix, hoping that the dark woman didn’t hear it, but of course with a name like ‘Hermione’ she didn’t stand a chance. (Sometimes she really wished that her parents weren’t so keen on weird names and just named her with normal British names like, for instance, ‘Lucy’ or ‘Amy’ or even ‘Emma’). She grinned sheepishly at Bellatrix, whose eyes were trained at her while giving her signature condescending smirk.

The two women approached her. “How odd to see you here, Miss Granger,” Bellatrix said.

“Even odder to see _you_ here,” Hermione muttered under her breath. Which was true; Bellatrix and her companion looked so out of place here. She put her brightest smile. “Hi Bellatrix,” she greeted her supervisor and stood up. From the way Bellatrix raised her eyebrows, it was obvious that she heard her mumble. Hermione blushed even deeper. She was going to say something, but Luna beat her to it.

“You’re Bellatrix?” the dreamy girl addressed Bellatrix. She elbowed Hermione. “That’s Bellatrix? _The_ Bellatrix?”

Hermione had never wished so much that the earth would open up and swallow her whole. She didn’t even dare look at Bellatrix’s direction. She was beyond mortified when the woman Bellatrix was with started to laugh.

“Why, I didn’t know you’ve got such a reputation, Bella,” she said mockingly.

“Neither did I,” Bellatrix offered in a tone that left Hermione wonder if she was amused or furious. She smiled at Luna. “Unless Miss Granger here had other acquaintances with the same name, I suppose I am _the_ Bellatrix she was referring to.”

“I’m Cissy,” quipped the person next to Bellatrix. She extended her hand and shook Hermione’s and Luna’s. “Nice to meet you, Miss Granger. And you are...?”

“Luna. I’m Hermione’s friend from uni,” Luna introduced herself happily. She pointed at Hermione and looked at Bellatrix. “She talked a lot about you. Like, _a lot_. All the time.”

_Great, go on and embarrass me some more, Lovegood. You’re so dead_. Hermione yelled in her head.

“Hmm... did she now?” Bella asked with a hint of amusement in her voice. Hermione could feel the dark eyes staring at her as she continued, “I suppose she did tell you the part about me being a witch?”

Hermione swallowed hard and forced herself to look up and meet Bellatrix’s gaze. Apology was hot on the tip of the tongue, but then she saw a knowing smirk in Bellatrix’s feature as Hermione’s mouth rounded to say the two-syllable word. She remembered what the older woman said about her compulsion to say sorry and stopped herself right on time; for that she earned an eyebrow raise of appreciation—or so she thought. She cleared her throat. “I... I didn’t talk specifically about you,” she began, trying to save the bit of dignity she had left. “I was talking about work and... well, you’re part of my working world.” She was failing miserably and everyone (maybe except Luna) knew it.

Bellatrix smiled enigmatically. “I see,” she said. She looked at her watch and said to the blonde next to her, “Well, Cissy, I think we should stop bothering these ladies and let them get back to their conversation. I believe your car is waiting?” Bellatrix said goodbye to Luna; she paused for a second when she turned towards Hermione as if considering her words before saying, “I will see you on Monday, Miss Granger.” Then she walked away, leaving her companion behind.

Cissy smiled encouragingly at Hermione. “It’s nice meeting you, Miss Granger,” she said. She glanced at the dark woman and said with a softer tone, “Don’t mind my sister. She’s woken up at the wrong side of the bed since the day she was born, really.” She winked and left, calling out for Bellatrix, who didn’t bother to slow down.

Hermione waited until the two women were out of earshot before hitting Luna with a napkin. “Luna Lovegood, you are so dead!” she groaned.

“What did I do?” Luna asked in a shrill tone, trying to avoid Hermione’s swatting.

“What _didn’t_ you do?!” Hermione snapped. “Oh my god, I am so dead!”

Luna sat down and waved at her. “Come on—it’s not even that bad,” she tried to assuage her friend. “I was right though, wasn’t I?” Hermione didn’t even want to ask. “Your boss is interesting.”

Hermione sank into the chair and buried her face in her hands. “I hate you!” was all she could say. She had a hunch that the following Monday was going to be hell.

...

That night Hermione stayed awake in bed, staring at the ceiling thinking about how she was going to face Bellatrix at work. But as slumber started to greet her, she remembered something about Bellatrix’s sister that made her crack a smile. “Apparently the ‘Miss Granger’ thing runs in the family,” she mumbled sleepily to her pillow.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's another update--not even a week from the last time I updated, and that only means one thing: I am utterly stressed out. And the fact that I have put The Cranberries' When You're Gone on loop is another sign that I am in the brink of insanity. Anyway, writing is my only coping mechanism now that all the karaoke bars in the whole country are closed for a month because it's Ramadan (not complaining, really), so you can expect some steady updates for my stories until I have my stress under control again. 
> 
> Anyway, did anyone notice that the song "Something There" from Beauty and the Beast is absolutely fitting for Bellamione? What songs do you have on your Bellamione playlist? Let me know. 
> 
> Back to the story: per usual, this is unbeta-ed so all grammatical mistakes and everything that doesn't fit are all my fault. I really have tried my best to find the most appropriate words to narrate the story, but since (1) I am not a native speaker, and (2) I have never been to London there might be something that isn't right about the wordings or places.
> 
> Thanks for still reading, and for leaving kudos and comments.
> 
> Oh, one more thing: If you can get to tell Kurai to update TGCWW, I'll be most grateful. I am DYING to read the next installment.

Monday morning came rolling like a storm—and it wasn’t an exaggeration on Hermione’s part, really, despite how she felt about going to work that day. The sky was already in a deep shade of grey when she woke up in the morning, and she knew even without checking the weather forecast that it was going to rain like mad the whole day. _Oh, summer in England_ , she thought gloomily as she kicked her cover aside and reluctantly got out of bed, _how enchanting_.

Hermione took her time to get ready; she tried on a few things before settling on a white button-up with blue stripes and a pair of jeans, thinking that wearing a skirt on a day like this was borderline suicidal. She shook her head as her mind immediately wandered to Bellatrix; she would bet her arm that her supervisor would be wearing a skirt today. As if reminded of the time, her eyes quickly glanced at the clock. “Pillocks!” she cussed, realising that she would not be catching the tube if she didn’t leave that instant. The brunette grabbed her keys, bag, and coat and dashed out the apartment without a second glance.

It was raining pretty heavily when Hermione alighted at Russell Square. Without her umbrella. For a few seconds she stood rooted under the canopy in front of the station before sighing in resignation, knowing that there wasn’t anything she could do. She fastened the buttons of her coat, straightened up the collar to cover her neck and hair as much as possible, and started walking briskly along the pavement with her bag clutched against her chest. It was only a five minute walking, but when Hermione finally reached the Senate House Library her hair was soaked and water was dripping from her coat.

“Blimey, Hermione! What are you doing here?”

Peter sounded so surprised seeing her there that Hermione couldn’t help frowing. What kind of a question was that? “Err... work?” she posed, unsure. Did he know something she didn’t? _Shit_! Did Bellatrix actually fire her during the weekend without her knowing? Could the supervisor actually do such a thing? Was it even legal?

“But I thought—...”

She wasn’t even listening to him and just hurried inside—forgetting the fact that she was leaving a trail of water droplets on her wake as she ascended the stairs. She opened the door and found Bellatrix at the Circulation Desk, holding a book.

The older woman’s head whipped up at the noise, and she looked genuinely surprised to see Hermione. “Wha—...”

“Did you fire me over the weekend?” Hermione blurted out, interrupting Bellatrix’s words.

Bellatrix frowned for a split second, seemingly confused. But then understanding dawned on her; she rolled her eyes as she put a hand on her hip. “You didn’t read my message about the library being closed today because of the storm.” It was a statement.

“Huh?”  _Then what is she doing there_?

“Should’ve expected that,” Bellatrix muttered. “I sent everyone a text this morning telling them not to come today,” she explained quite impatiently.

“Oh. I didn’t...” _have time to check my phone_ , Hermione didn’t have the guts to finish her sentence. She rummaged her bag and turned beet red when she realised that she’d left her phone at home.

“I reckon.” She gestured at Hermione. “Look at you! You look like something a cat dragged in. Did you leave the house without an umbrella? Or a waterproof coat—with proper hood? In this weather?” Bellatrix sounded quite upset for some reason, her voice carrying the are-you-actually-that-thick tone that leave Hermione blushing even deeper. She didn’t give the younger woman a chance to say a word. “Are you actually out of your mind, Granger? _Right_ , of course you are. Sorry I asked.” She circled the Desk and took several large strides towards Hermione and held out her right hand. Seeing the confusion in Hermione’s eyes she motioned at her outfit. “Coat—give me your coat.”

Hermione took her coat off without saying a word, too stunned. Her teeth were chattering as the cool breeze from the central air conditioning hit her thin layer of clothing. She was still standing on her original spot, following Bellatrix only with her eyes.

“Shoes off,” Bellatrix ordered. “Those socks, too—and leave them there; I’ll take care of them later. You’ll be catching god-know-what if you keep on wearing those.” She walked past Hermione. “Follow me.”

Having no other choice, Hermione followed Bellatrix to the pantry. She let herself being ushered into a chair next to the heater and waited as the older woman went out somewhere only to return a few minutes later with a towel (who on earth had a towel at their workplace?!) and a long thick black coat. The brunette was agape as Bellatrix covered her with the coat and gave her the towel to dry her hair then went on to the stove to heat some water without missing a beat.

The coat was warm, and the inside linings were so soft against the skin. Hermione slipped her arms into it so she could use the towel more properly. As she moved she caught a whiff of some familiar scent; she wondered where she’d smell it before but couldn’t quite remember. She shrugged the thought away, thinking that it was only her imagination. She then realised that she hadn’t thanked the older woman and quickly blurted out a soft, “Thank you.”

Bellatrix glanced over her shoulder, giving her a noncommittal hum of acknowledgement. They fell quiet; the only noise filling the room was the howling wind and rain pitter-pattering on the windows. Hermione leaned back into the chair, thinking about how odd the situation was—her being alone with Bellatrix and they weren’t talking about anything work related; it was the first time since she started working there. It was... comforting, in some sense. And Hermione knew she could get used to it. She turned her attention to Bellatrix, who was still facing away from her measuring milk into a couple of mugs, and started watching her.

Her traitorous eyes travelled down and she tongued her cheek to stop herself from grinning—Bellatrix was indeed wearing a skirt. And damn did she look good in it! Her head snapped upwards when suddenly Bellatrix spoke.

“So, Miss Granger,” Bellatrix said, her back still facing the younger woman. “It’s been thirty minutes and you have yet to say ‘sorry’ to me.” She turned around with a smirk on her face. She handed Hermione a mug of steaming milk tea then proceeded to sit opposite her “That’s an improvement,” she admitted. “I almost thought that you can only say two things: ‘I’m sorry’ and ‘am I fired?’”

“I—...”

“Oh, dear, don’t break it. It’s almost thirty-five minutes now without those things.”

Hermione wasn’t sure if Bellatrix was actually serious, until she saw a gleam of mirth in the dark eyes watching her reaction. She gave the older woman a sheepish smile. “It was a habit,” she said apologetically.

“A habit?” Bellatrix sounded astonished. “So you went around apologising and asking whether you were fired to all your former bosses? Jesus!”

“Not to all of them, no.”

“So just me,” the dark woman deducted, waving her hand dismissively, “Well, I do have that effect on people.” She took a sip of her tea and urged Hermione to drink more, her eyes never leaving the younger woman as she contemplated about what to say next. From the look of it, she knew that Hermione still felt uneasy with her presence—so, probably it was best for her to leave the young woman alone, wasn’t it? She was about to tell Hermione that she was going back to her office, but the young woman beat her to it.

“Why do you hate me so much?”

It was a question which Hermione wasn’t planning to ask, Bellatrix was sure, judging from the shock clearly etched in her face; the brunette was wide-eyed and pale. She opened her mouth to answer, but literally couldn’t think of anything. While she was thinking, though, Hermione had already made up her mind about Bellatrix.

“Never mind,” the brunette said quickly, embarrassed for having asked such ridiculous things. _Great job putting your foot in your mouth, Hermione_. “It was inappropriate. I’m sorry.” She fumbled with the coat as she began to stand up and leave. But Bellatrix’s words stopped her.

“I don’t.” Their eyes met and Bellatrix held her gaze. “Hate you—that is. I don’t hate you.” She nodded at Hermione. “Sit down, Miss Granger. I think we really need to talk.”

Hermione blanched. _Oh, devil, just kill me now_.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, another update. Don't ask me about my stress level--still high as a kite.
> 
> I hope that you have low expectation for this chapter, because after I read and reread it I feel quite disappointed with it. The interaction didn't seem real enough. But right now I'm just too exhausted to think clearly, so here's what you got. I would most definitely regret posting this later.. 
> 
> The next chapter would have to wait, though, I think. I'm going to write an update for Glimpses first. And that one is going to take a toll on me.
> 
> Well, then, hopefully you don't cringe as much as I did while reading the chapter. Thanks for all your comments and kudos.

The silence in the room was suffocating, and as minutes passed by Hermione was ready to explode. She was cold and tired, and the last thing she wanted was to be kept in this eternal suspense Bellatrix seemingly wanted to create—the older woman hadn’t said a single word since she said that they needed to talk! She didn’t even seem to move except for her finger drumming the side of her mug!

Hermione found it harder to sit still as the cold seeped through her bare feet; Bellatrix’s coat didn’t completely ward off the chill from her. When she couldn’t stand it anymore, she shifted her position, lifting her feet from the floor and drawing her knees to her chest. From the corner of her eyes she saw that her sudden movement had apparently broken Bellatrix from her trance, as the older woman was now looking at her instead of at the window behind her. The drumming stopped midway.

“Are you cold?”

The young woman almost cried in relief when Bellatrix finally spoke. She took a deep breath and exhaled audibly, feeling the tension in her shoulders melt away. “A bit,” she replied, and before they could fall into another round of cold war she added hastily, “Is this what you meant by ‘talking,’ Bellatrix? Unlike you, I don’t do telepathy.” She saw the corner of Bellatrix’s mouth lift up a fraction at the mention of mind reading and Hermione’s sudden burst of bravery quickly vaporised. She averted Bellatrix’s eyes. “Sorry.”

“That ‘sorry’ is becoming irritating, Miss Granger,” Bellatrix said.

She couldn’t take it anymore. “Huh? Like your ‘Miss Granger-ing’ me all the time isn’t?” Hermione spat out bitterly, “Your always trying to put yourself above me is pathological.” The voice in the back of her mind warned her that she would totally regret saying those things, but at the moment she simply couldn’t give a damn. To hell with consequences.

Bellatrix’s eyes widened at Hermione’s words, not used to being spoken in such a tone by someone younger; her jaws hardened. She was livid. And dear, proud Bellatrix Black wasn’t one to take a hit without retaliating. She said coldly, “That is called being polite, _Miss Granger_ —something your generation is desperately lacking. Didn’t your parents teach you manners?”

“Don’t bring my parents into this!” Hermione slammed the table; she was instantly on her feet, glaring murder at Bellatrix. “If you think it is polite to single out your new employee ‘just because’ then you have a messed up view on politeness. Didn’t _your_ parents teach _you_?”

“Careful, Miss Granger, we don’t want to go there,” Bellatrix warned.

Hermione’s eyes stung with unshed tears. Had it been a normal situation, she’d have been intimidated by Bellatrix’s dangerously low voice and her piercing dark eyes. But it wasn’t a normal situation, and she wasn’t thinking clearly. “I hate you,” she whispered.

“Ah, so typical,” the dark woman scoffed, “You and your kind always use those three words as a last resort when you’re losing an argument because it is oh-so-eloquent and you people are fragile flowers who need to be understood and coddled.” Bellatrix’s words were laced with so much venom that Hermione winced. “Guess what, little missy, you are entitled to _nothing_.”

The cold fury in Bellatrix’s voice sent a shiver down Hermione’s spine. She had never seen Bellatrix so angry, and to be honest she was terrified with the way her supervisor expressed her anger. Unlike Hermione, Bellatrix looked composed and calm on the outside; she didn’t even raise her voice at the younger woman—the only indication that Bellatrix was furious was her choice of words. Hermione felt so small and insignificant. Bellatrix spoke as if Hermione was beneath her, like Hermione was dirt. And those eyes—if look could kill...!

Hermione swallowed hard, unable to form a coherent thought. Her cheeks were burning with embarrassment. “If you hate _my kind_ so much why do you keep hiring us then?” she asked in disgust. “Because we’re cheap?”

“Now stop right there, Miss Granger.” Bellatrix raised a warning finger.

“Don’t tell me what to do!” Hermione yelled, pressing a hand on her temple to stop the pounding in her head. The more she held in her tears, the more headache she had.

Bellatrix said nothing in return. Her anger had dissipated a little when she saw how pale Hermione was, and how the young woman kept squinting in pain. She sighed, feeling a dull throbbing in the back of her head. She pinched the bridge of her nose and muttered for Hermione to sit down, quite surprised to find Hermione flopping back into the chair with her knees drawn to her chest. The younger woman started crying, and Bellatrix was not sure if the other woman cried because of her or because she wasn’t feeling well. She counted to five before speaking again, “I don’t hate you, you know?”

Hermione glared at Bellatrix. “You’ve got a funny way to show it,” she retorted, resting her head on her knees.

“If you’re looking for an apology, Miss Granger, you know you won’t have it,” Bellatrix said matter-of-factly. “And I don’t appreciate you yelling at me like that. Politeness goes a long way.”

“Why do you keep calling me with my last name?”

“Why do you insist I don’t?”

Hermione shrugged. “Because you call other people by their first names.”

“And that’s reason enough for you?”

“Yes.”

The dark woman eyed Hermione carefully, contemplating on her next words. “We are not friends, Miss Granger—I don’t go on a first-name basis with people I don’t really know.”

“I don’t like it,” Hermione admitted. “You make me feel left out. It hurts when you are so casual with the others but not with me, just because I’m new.”

“Your being new has nothing to do with it,” Bellatrix replied. “How many times should I say that we are not—..”

“—friends, I get it! Stop repeating it,” Hermione cut her off, finishing Bellatrix’s sentence. She peered at the older woman. “And FYI, your excuse is lame.”

Bellatrix cocked her head to the side. “Are you always this sensitive?”

“Well, like you said, _my kind_ is fragile and needs to be coddled from the world.”

“Okay, I admit it—that was harsh,” Bellatrix said. “But I’m not apologising.”

“Because it’s true?”

“Because I don’t see why I should.”

Hermione chuckled. She buried her face between her knees and closed her eyes. “I’m tired,” she said in a small voice.

“Who wouldn’t—after that barrage of emotional screaming?” It was not unkind, the way Bellatrix said it. “Do you want more tea?”

“No.”

“Let’s go up to my office, then.”

“Why? So you can murder me?” Hermione knew she wasn’t making any sense now. She frowned when Bellatrix was suddenly on her side, tugging at her arm. _When did she move_? She forced herself to look up at the other woman. “Wow, she surely is a witch,” she mumbled before darkness took her away.

* * *

 

The first thing Hermione saw when she opened her eyes was a pair of dark eyes staring at her with intense curiosity only a few inches from her face. Hermione gasped in surprise and tried to back away only to find that she felt lightheaded when trying to move. She flopped into the mattress unceremoniously.

“Hello.”

The cheerful greeting cut through the haze in her head. It was then she realised that the pair of eyes belonged to a child who leisurely lay on her stomach beside Hermione. The child looked exactly like Bellatrix, with dark eyes and curly hair encased her small face; Hermione didn’t have to take a wild guess of who the girl was. “Where am I?” she asked dizzily as she looked around taking in the unfamiliar surrounding, her voice was hoarse with sleep.

The door on her left swung open before the child could reply. The mini version of her supervisor jumped off the bed and ran to the door immediately when she saw who was coming. “Dru! There you are!” Bellatrix whispered in annoyance as she took grab of the child’s arm. Bending her knees to level her eyes with the girl, she hissed, “What did I tell you about going into other people’s rooms without permission?” Bellatrix spoke in a low voice, apparently thinking that Hermione was still asleep.

“Not to do it because it’s improper?” the girl asked with feigned innocence, not at all bothering to lower her voice.

 Bellatrix rolled her eyes at the cheeky answer. “And _that_ was exactly what you just did, Miss Black,” she deadpanned, clearly not amused.

“But this is not her room,” the child argued. “Who is she anyway?”

“Shush, child! You’re going to wake her up.”

The child pointed to the bed. “But she’s already up!”

Bellatrix looked up to the bed and saw Hermione watching them. “You’re awake,” she remarked. To her child, she asked accusingly, “Did you wake her up?”

“I certainly did not.”

Hermione bit her tongue to stop herself from smiling. The girl was no older than seven, but the way she spoke and the air about her were so similar to Bellatrix. Apples didn’t fall far from the tree, obviously. She was too preoccupied with her thoughts that she didn’t realize that Bellatrix moved to the bed until the dark woman had sat on the cover, right next to Hermione.

“How are you feeling?” Bellatrix asked, concerned. She spoke so softly that it took Hermione a second too late to realise that she was speaking to her. Bellatrix interpreted the silence as a negative answer, it seemed, for the next second she reached out her hand to touch Hermione’s forehead.

Bellatrix’s hand was cool on her forehead. And soft. And smelled so nice. And Hermione was sure that she was now in a very weird dream. When she heard a small chuckle from her side, Hermione knew she had voiced her thoughts out loud. She was mortified.

“Oh, you’re pretty much awake,” Bellatrix said.

“What happened?”

There was a pause before Bellatrix answered her. “You got a fever. Then you fainted in the pantry when we were going to my office,” the older woman recounted. “Ring a bell?”

It did... not. Hermione frowned. The last thing she remembered was—wait, what was the last thing she remembered? Everything was a blur. “I was sick?”

“Are.”

“Huh?” Hermione looked at Bellatrix, puzzled.

“From the look of it, you _are_ still ill.” The head librarian gestured at Hermione with one hand. She still hadn’t moved from her position on the bed, her other hand was still on Hermione’s cheek.

“I’m okay,” Hermione contradicted.

“No, she’s not. She talked in her sleep,” the child decided to chime in. “Something about witches.”

Hermione winced. _What on earth?_

Bellatrix nodded. Her face impassive. “You are not yet well,” she said, “You only said you’re okay because you don’t want to impose.” Hermione’s blush told her supervisor enough. “Well, you’re not imposing. Now rest—stop thinking too much.” She stood up and turned to her daughter saying, “And you, young lady, we’re going to have a talk about this later.”

The girl’s grin disappeared for a bit. “Yes, Ma’am.” She waved at Hermione and took her leave, only to stop at the door and peeked back in as if she had just remembered something. “Mummy, is she going to be my nanny?”

“Don’t be silly, Druella—since when do you have a nanny?” Bellatrix asked sharply, but not unkindly. “This is my friend Hermione Granger. She works with me at the library.”

“I’ve never met her before. How long has she been working with you? Is she new? Does Dora still work there? Am I going to meet Dora soon? Does she still co—..”

“Oh for the love of—... that’s enough,” Bellatrix cut the ramble. “I haven’t got my coffee. Now... what did Mummy say about asking questions before her morning coffee?”

“Limit them to two?”

“Right. And you’ve asked more than enough to last the weekend,” Bellatrix said. “Why don’t you be a darling, say goodbye to Miss Granger here and go wait for me in the kitchen? I’ll be just a minute.” She waited for Druella to mumble her goodbye and leave the room before turning back to the sick woman in the bed. “I’m sorry about that.”

Hermione shook her head. “She looks just like you,” she commented off-handedly.

Bellatrix’s expression softened. “She does, doesn’t she?” There was unmistakable pride in the way she said it even though she added, “But thank goodness my mouth doesn’t run like that.” Her eyes gleamed with mirth when they met Hermione’s. Then she seemed to realise who she was talking with and quickly sobered up. She took one last glance at the young woman. “Go back to sleep, Hermione. Get better soon.”

With that, Bellatrix left without giving the brunette a chance to reply. Not that Hermione could respond, anyway; the young woman was too busy wrapping her head around the fact that Bellatrix just called her by her name.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Err, yes.. I brought Druella here. Should I just erase her to make the story less complicated?


End file.
